Pinky Swear
by KazeYami
Summary: Yaoi. Bobby returns to Second Earth after many years to see his best friend. Sadly, time has changed both his home and his lover. BobbyxMark. No admittance under 18.


"Pinky Swear"

-Written by Sleep Remedy

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Disclaimer: I do not own the Pendragon series nor any of the character therein. Those are all owned by D.J. MacHale... Bah.

Warnings: Um, so this is yaoi(meaning boy-on-boy loving) and it is kind of dark. If you don't like the angst, I wouldn't suggest this fic. However, it is kinda cute at the end. All depends on the person, I suppose.

Authoress Note: So, this is my second Pendragon fanfiction and I have to admit, I kind of did it on a whim. I always kind of wondered about the relationship between Bobby and Mark. Or, rather, I always thought that they would make a really cute couple, being the opposites that they are. I hope you enjoy it and leave me lots of reviews!

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It was my first night home in ... God, such a long time. The fights and territories that needed saving were nearly endless. It was so rare that I would have the time to come see him, rather than just send him journals. I don't have even the slightest idea how much he's changed. Time never flows the same for me and he's never the same person that I knew back in Middle School when I return. Sometimes I can barely recognize him. But, he always holds that same basic essence that makes him Mark. He always has that strange smell of old moldy books and new shiny technology. He always has that gentle and vulnerable look in his eyes that always worried me and made me love him at the same time. And always, always, he was happy to see me. No matter how much time passed between my visits, Mark was always there, waiting patiently, loyally, for me. I wondered how much he would have changed this time.

I walked down the same old street that would lead me to our culdesac. The one that held Mark's parents house and my empty lot. However, it was no longer my empty lot, but the Baummen's house. They had built the newer and bigger house there two or three visits ago. Likewise, Mark's parent's house was now his house as Mark's parents had died in a car accident the last time I was here. I would never forget how I had come to his house to find him dressed completely in black and crying uncontrollably over their family photo in the kitchen. I couldn't curse myself enough for not being there for him. I had to leave again the next day.

As I entered the rounded dead-end drive, I noticed small differences. Such as, it was no longer the Baummen's house, but the Altmen's house. Also, one of the other houses, the one on the other side of Mark's, was for sale and had been for some time, by the look of the unkempt lawn. But, the thing that jumped out at me the most how nice Mark's house looked. Mark had only just turned eighteen when his parents died and left everything to him. Mark had never been very big on the whole manual labor thing, yet here was everything new and nice.

The lawn was bright green and well pruned. The mail box had been painted a fresh white. It looked like the house had been power washed and new concrete had been laid down for the sidewalk. Not only that, there were new curtains in the windows and a different light fixture on the front porch. How much? Just how much time had passed this time around?

I wandered up to the front porch, but I felt like it was a different house. After standing there for a good ten minutes or so (or, at the least, it certainly felt about as long) I finally reached up and pushed the doorbell. This, at least, was not changed. It was yellowed and worn with time and fingers and it didn't match the new light fixture, but that sort of reassured me. Perhaps this really was the house that Mark grew up in and that I knew so well. I heard footsteps coming to the door and nearly jumped out of my skin. What if Mark had moved? What if I had to face some poor old woman and explain to her why I was ringing her doorbell at nearly midnight? Worse yet, what if it really was Mark? Or, rather, a Mark that I really and truly didn't know?

A young man opened the door and I was taken aback for a moment. I must've gotten the wrong house. The guy who stood before me stood taller than me by a few inches and was skinnier and paler than myself. His hair was blacker than the night sky behind me, which made me think for a moment that it was Mark, but the hair itself was past his waist to the curve of his butt. Not only that, he had no glasses, so his equally black eyes drilled right through me, expressing some kind of vague surprise.

"Sorry..." I said, looking down, finally, as I came to the conclusion that it couldn't be Mark. Maybe his family members (whom never approved of the decision to leave everything to Mark) had finally gotten the house from him. "Wrong house," I said, as I turned to leave.

"Wait! Bobby!" the young man yelled, reaching out and grabbing my upper arm. Looking back, I saw the desperate and sad look on his face.

"Mark?" I asked, experimentally.

"Bobby!" Mark cried, yanking me back onto the porch and into his arms. I quickly embraced him back. "Where have you been! I thought you were dead! I had given up hope! Bobby..." Mark trailed off, squeezing me tightly as the emotion in his voice took over and he began to cry.

"I'm sorry, Mark. So sorry... Sorry..."

-Break-

I had been able to learn little things just from going around the house. Things like, it had been seven years since I had last seen Mark, the night of his parent's funeral. Mark (and I, by default) were now 25. At least, that's what the calendar told me. The different computers, technical parts, and bit codes strewn on the coffee tables and in other various places told me that he had probably gotten a good job with computers. There was also a picture on his bed stand. It was of Mark and another man and they looked extremely happy. And, Mark looked beautiful. He had apparently grown out of his awkward geeky stage. Although, the last time I had been here, I had already seen that happening, but this might as well have been a different person. This was a calm and composed Mark that I didn't really know. A Mark that had a boyfriend and could take care of himself.

"Bobby?" the new Mark asked, staring at me from the bedroom door. How strange that he would take me here right away, though he already had a boyfriend. Would he be willing to cheat on him with me? Would I be willing to help him cheat?

"What's his name?" I asked, holding up the picture and smiling sadly. I had to have expected this to happen, but it hurt, all the same.

"James," he answered simply. "I met him at the company in England," he offered, taking the picture from me and looking at it himself. "He died six months ago. In a fire."

I didn't know what to say. So, there was no one for Mark to cheat on, but was that something to be happy about or horribly sorrowful? I couldn't decide and here was Mark having lost three people in his life, not including myself.

"Mark, I'm sorry..." I squeezed out. What else could I say?

"It's fine. I'm okay..." he reassured, but it didn't sound like it. It didn't sound like it at all.

I grabbed his face and pressed it to mine. I tasted the familiar taste of his lips. He still had that funny taste like beehive honey. He was stiff for a moment, but he soon melted like he always did. All the motions were so familiar and well practiced, we both moved in that well known fashion onto the bed with me on top of him. We stripped clothes the way we had since we were sixteen, me stripping first, breaking the kiss only to pull my shirt over my head and him pulling off his shirt with me taking off the rest. We kissed the same way we had since we were fifteen, long and deep with our tongues getting caught in an intricate dance. We made love the same way we had when were seventeen. He didn't need as much preparation as he had when we were seventeen, but he still tried to restrain himself from making noise and I still moved slow and steady, thrusting at just the right incline to hit his special spot. He still came with a small strangled squeak and I still called out his name when I came, falling on his chest while he wrapped his arms around my back lazily. It was terrifying and comforting that those things didn't change, no matter how much time passed. It was something we always did. We would do these things every time I came home, feeling out each others bodies, then lying in silence forever afterwards, just basking in the afterglow.

"Bobby... What happened?" Mark asked, breaking the familiar, breaking the rhythm with his watery onyx black eyes that kept begging for something more like they always had.

"I'm sorry..." I apologized, eager to continue quickly, not to break anymore of what we had. "The battle's been really hard. I'm really sorry. I should have come back sooner."

"No. What happened to us?" he asked, looking away as a single tear escaped his long curled lashes. So, he had noticed it, too. It didn't feel the same. I couldn't understand him through our bodies like I usually could. I supposed it was the same for him.

"I don't know," was all I could say, giving up and leaning my forehead against his collarbone. "Was there ever an 'us' to begin with? Did this ever really exist?" I asked, doubting everything and anything at that point.

"Bobby..." Mark began, threading his fingers through my hair. He had never done that before. Was it something he had learned from James? "It's not your fault. I think ... we've both changed. It's not a crime. Neither of us did anything wrong. We're just not the kids we were when we fell in love. It doesn't mean we don't love each other anymore."

"Were we in love?" I asked suddenly, sitting up and staring at him wanting an answer and just getting stunned silence. "I had just been dumped twice and you had never really had anyone! Weren't we really just looking for warmth in each other's arms?" I asked, enraged. If there hadn't been a real relationship at all, then it wouldn't hurt as much when it wasn't there anymore, right? I was looking for someone who would accept me, no matter how far away I was and Mark was almost guaranteed to do that. Apparently, I had relied too much on that sentiment.

"Bobby..." Mark choked out, long trails of tears on his face this time. "I loved you," he said, trying to get up. He looked so abashed. He looked so confused. He hadn't expected us to end this way. He hadn't expected this to end at all. His dark, dark eyes communicated so much in just one small glance. I was so stupid.

"Mark! I'm sorry!" I yelled, grabbing him around his middle and snuggling into his warmth. "I'm sorry. Maybe that's how it was when I was first with you, but I really came to love you. I started to appreciate you... Now, you're different. You're still Mark, but you don't need me anymore and you're not fragile like before and, and, and... Just different. It scares me. This is the one place I have to come back to, you know? I'm afraid that one day I'm going to come back and it isn't going to be mine anymore. That you're not going to be mine anymore..." I trailed off, letting him go and sitting up on my own. I felt so exposed. I would have said that I felt naked, if I was already so.

"You don't need to be afraid about that kind of thing..." Mark said, turning around to look at me and sit back down on the bed. "I'll wait for you this time, I promise!" Mark said, smiling and wiping away his tears.

"Really?" I asked, skeptical. I know he thought I was dead and a horrible amount of time had gone by, but I didn't really trust him. He was able to find someone while I was gone. What if it just happened again?

"I'm serious. That was the first time you said you loved me, you know? I can wait fifty years for you to say that again, as long as you promise that you will," he said, putting his forehead against mine and giggling a little at my startled reaction.

"Yeah. I promise! Cross my heart and hope to die!" I replied happily, holding out my pinky finger, offering a pinky swear like we always used to when we were really little.

"Accepted!" Mark said back, smiling happily as he wrapped his pinky around mine and shook up and down a few times. "Pinky swear."


End file.
